


Shall We Dance?

by katz7777777



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballroom Dancing, Breakdancing, I just really needed ballroom dancer Victor, M/M, Pining, Pole Dancing, dance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katz7777777/pseuds/katz7777777
Summary: Victor danced like it was effortless. He would gracefully glide his way across the room to Yuuri, easily offer his hand to the younger with an unasked question, and pleasantly smile every time he was rejected. And while Yuuri had promised himself he would never return, convinced himself he never wanted to step in time with someone again, something about Victor pulled him in. Something about Victor made him want to try again, made him want to take that hand.And that terrified Yuuri.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been mulling over this idea since the banquet pictures of Yuuri and Victor dancing together in ep 10, and I really needed a pick-me-up this week, so here's ballroom-dancer!Victor along with Yuuri who knows more styles of dance than any one person should be allowed to...

_The back of his head collides with the dance floor, the dull thump causing him to gasp in pain, stars exploding behind his eyes. The pain is momentarily searing, and he might let out a cry, but he isn’t focused enough to be sure. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a few moments to remember how to breathe, trying to force the blinding white light to the corners of his vision. His hands are shaking as he brings them up to brush over the injury, hissing when he touches a particularly sensitive spot. He feels the panic starting to take hold as he brings his hand away, blood sliding down his fingers, a pit beginning to boil in his gut._

_It takes him a moment longer to realize he’s still on top of his partner. Her cries of pain seem farther away than he knows they should be, like he’s been drifting underwater. In his scramble to get up he nearly loses consciousness, but when he see’s her, he’s certain he blacks out for a minute, because he’s suddenly on his knees having difficulty breathing again. She lay collapsed upon the floor, tears streaming down her face as silent sobs wrack her body. The turn of her right ankle was unnatural, twisted too far up towards her leg, red and purple already blossoming over the bone. Her left hand clasped her other wrist, having pulled it in close to her chest, seemingly protecting it. He momentarily thinks she’s protecting it from him._

_He can only stare in panic, frozen on his knees, now numb to the pain that is pulsating from his head. He watches people crowd in around her, watches as someone calls over a stretcher,_ watches _as they try to talk to her through the tears. He can’t move, but he also can’t look away._

_Someone is asking him questions, but he can’t hear them, his attention solely focused on the woman before him. She turns to look at him, her face red and blotchy even through the makeup, black lines following the path of her tears. He watches as she forces a smile, forces herself to look okay for him, as she tries to blink away the tears._

_“It’s okay.” Is what she mouths to him, and he watches as her face contorts in pain when one of the medical staff prods at her ankle, as she clenches her lower lip between her teeth to stop the scream that’s ripping through her body. He feels his stomach drop through the floor._

_They’ve finally gotten a stretcher to her, and he stares as she is lifted on, they are careful to avoid her swelling ankle this time. It isn’t until he’s watched them leave with her, the sobbing already replaying in his mind, that he realizes his face is also wet with tears._

_He lets out a muffled cry, dropping his head into his hands, finally moving again. His head is throbbing, blood slowly dripping down his neck, and his back aching with new bruises. But he can hardly care. The guilt pounding through his veins hurts more than any physical pain, and he can only repeat the same sobbing phrase._

_“I’m sorry.”_

* * *

Yuuri was startled awake by the shrill ringing of his phone, bolting upright as the pounding in his chest quickened, the cold sweat making his shirt cling to his back. His head throbbed with the pain of a long healed injury, but his hands were shaking again, and he had to wring them into the sheets to make it stop. It took him a few seconds to register that it was Phichit who was calling, the ringtone something the other had personally selected, but he’d hung up before Yuuri had been able to reach for the phone.

It had been a while since he had dreamt of that day. He thought that maybe he was finally getting over it, but the clenching of his gut told him differently. It felt no less real than it had been all that time ago.

He reached up to touch his face, surprised to not find salted tracks, which was a vast improvement from his previous nightmares. He remembers waking up sobbing apologies into the night more than once, his pillow frequently stained with tears, his entire body vibrating in memory of the fear. He remembers grabbing his phone to call her in the middle of the night, only to reluctantly slide the phone away, guilt gnawing on his consciousness.

When Yuuri reaches for the phone this time, it’s to call Phichit back, knowing the other is assuming he’s still sleeping. Phichit knew Yuuri worked late last night, knows he works late just about every night these days, so for him to be calling so early it must be important.

“Yuuri! You’re awake!” Phichit’s voice rang through the speaker, far too loud for the headache Yuuri felt growing.

“Yeah, I just got up,” Yuuri responded, already moving to get out of bed, and preferably out of his sweat soaked shirt.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” the other asked, concern leaking into his voice.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t having a good sleep anyways,” Yuuri said before he yawned, stripped off his shirt, and headed into the kitchen to start up a cup of coffee. There was a slight delay in Phichit’s response.

“Was it that dream?” he asked cautiously, voice already pitched lower than his earlier excitement.

“Mhm,” Yuuri hummed his acknowledgement, already pushing this mornings dream back into the recesses of his memory, not needing to dwell on it any longer, “Better than usual, nothing to worry about.”

“Okay…” comes Phichit’s tentative reply, only momentarily letting the conversation slip into a comfortable silence before he had already moved on, “So, I actually called this morning because I have some good news!”

“Really?” Yuuri smiled, amused that the other was already back to his usual tone, knowing that it was for Yuuri’s sake he flipped back so quickly.

“Yeah! Do you remember that classmate I was telling you about? The one from my second year film class that does some hiphop?” Yuuri only vaguely remembered Phichit messaging him about someone like that, possibly the guy that had great taste in music, but he agreed anyways, “Well he works at this huge dance company, and I happened to mention that we were still looking to rent somewhere to practice, and he started talking about this studio that’s almost always empty. Something about not having enough instructors to use the rooms all the time, and how they were looking to fill the space.”

“Oh?” Yuri commented, mixing his coffee while he kept the phone lodged between his shoulder and ear, already moving towards his couch in the den.

“So I went in this morning to speak to one of the managers, because apparently this place has more than one, they're so huge its not surprising we missed them on our search, I definitely would have thought they were way out of our budget. Honestly, I almost turned away at the door.” Phichit’s small laugh travelled through the line, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile along with him, “Anyways, because that studio has been left alone for so long they’ve been looking to hire some new instructors, specifically people who can bring in a something new. So when I was talking with him I let him know that our dance crew was looking to rent a studio for practice, and he was suddenly really interested in what we could do. So at first I showed him a couple of videos from our other practi-“

“Wait,” Yuuri interjected, already knowing the answer but needing to ask anyways, “Please tell me you didn’t show him the Britney Spears video.”

“Of course I did!” Phichit affirmed Yuuri’s fears, and he could nearly hear the younger’s smile through the phone.

Yuuri had put his coffee down and let his head fall into his hands, remembering the horrors of _that_ video. He and Phichit had done a far too sexual recreation of Britney Spears’s Toxic, however Yuuri can’t seem to remember a single thing from that night other than the first few beers he had downed at the birthday party. Yuuri had somehow located a pair of golden short shorts deciding they were the only thing he needed to wear for the dance, and if Phichit’s retelling was accurate, the only thing he wore for the rest of the night.

“He totally loved it!” Phichit chortled, causing Yuuri to sigh into his phone as an embarrassed flush rose up his neck.

“What else did you show him?” Yuuri asked, trying to divert the conversation away from one of his most embarrassing nights.

“Well, just a few from our competitions, and then a cypher from back in January, apparently Kenjirou recorded one of them.”

“I can’t even say I’m surprised.” Yuuri laughed, Kenjirou had been picking up Phichit’s social media habits recently.

“He’s learned well,” Phichit proudly stated, and Yuuri could only scoff at him.

“So, what did the manager think?” Yuuri asked, leaning down to take a sip of his coffee.

“Well, he offered me a job,” and Yuuri almost spat it back out.

“He did what?” Yuuri nearly shouted, completely surprised. Who just hires a 20 year old off the street to be a dance teacher? Phichit wasn’t even done college yet!

“He said it would be part time only,” Phichit explained, trying to calm Yuuri down, “that I could use the studio whenever I wanted, and that I would get paid for all of my hours. He even said that he would try to not overload my schedule because I’m still a student!”

Still somewhat stunned, Yuuri could only ask, “Did you accept it?”

“Of course! With a deal like that, who would turn it down?”

Phichit was right, even Yuuri would be hard pressed to reject such an offer, especially after so long of searching for a dance studio. They’d been going on their sixth month of searching, and while Yuuri still wasn’t sure he could confidently return to a studio, he knew as well as any other of them that they needed one. Cardboard boxes and local community centres weren’t going to cut it anymore.

“That’s great, Phichit.” Yuuri found himself saying, still caught between surprise and genuine elation.

“Thanks! But, I might not be able to teach all of these classes on my own, I do still have school to think about…” Phichit trailed off, leaving the obvious request up to Yuuri to take.

Yuuri didn’t know if he had the confidence to go back into a dance studio with his head held high, let alone teach an entire class on his own. Sure, he had taken several lessons in the past, and he could possibly try to recreate those, but there was a vast difference between being an instructor and being a student. Was he good enough to teach a class of students? Had he even been training long enough to be considered an instructor?

And then there was the dilemma of that dream. It may have been years ago, but with the nightmares still happening, he wasn’t sure if returning would help or hinder him. The last time he tried, he couldn’t spend more than a few minutes in the room before he needed a breather. Though, that had been over a year ago, and he was feeling better about it recently. Honestly, the idea of finally being back in a studio, the hardwood floors and the mirrored walls, was an enticing one. Yuuri knew he wanted to dance, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to dance like that again.

 _It won’t be the same._ Yuuri thought to himself. _You can do this because it will be different this time._

“I might be able to help,” Yuuri finally responded, a little concerned over working two jobs, but he figured it was unlikely the schedules would conflict anyways.

“I knew you’d say that, you’re the best Yuuri!” He could hear Phichit’s smile through the phone, and it was infectious, “I’ll send you the schedule when I get it, I’m about to go to class, and I still have to tell the others.”

Yuuri glanced at the time on his cell phone, the bright digital numbers reading 9:05am, far earlier than he would usually be awake on a weekday. Though these days the weekdays merged with the weekends, and Yuuri wasn’t sure where one began and the other ended.

“It’s no problem, Phichit. Now go to class, you don’t want to be late again,” Yuuri joked, remembering the younger complaining about extra work the last time he was absent to one of his morning classes.

He heard Phichit laugh at him as he said goodbye and hung up, leaving Yuuri alone in his apartment to plan the rest of his day, trying not to fret over the fact that he just agreed to help Phichit with a job he knew far too little about.

Yuuri downed the rest of his coffee and grabbed his gym bag, intent on getting a morning workout in if he was going to be awake anyways. He could worry about the rest later.

* * *

It took about three days for that later to arrive, starting when Phichit had sent Yuuri the finalized teaching schedule. Surprisingly, they'd left it lighter than he’d expected, no more than two classes per day, truly trying to keep it part time.

The younger had asked if Yuuri could take a few of the lessons, the ones that directly overlapped with his film classes, and thankfully none of them seemed to conflict with his work schedule, even if the Thursday morning classes were sure to be painful. Who wanted to take classes at 9am on a weekday?

Yuuri ended up agreeing to take three classes total, a Monday and Tuesday afternoon, followed by a Thursday morning. Yuuri said he could take more, the other was still in school after all, and ended up compromising that he would take most, if not all of Phichit’s classes during exams.

It then took another two days for Phichit to convince Yuuri to actually go visit the dance company, claiming the manager was ‘begging’ to see him, but Yuuri figured that was an exaggeration to convince him to finally set foot in the place. It’s not that he was tentative about the job, at least not anymore, not after Phichit told him that he would only be teaching beginner classes for now. He could handle beginners. He was more nervous about visiting the studio itself.

It wasn’t until Wednesday afternoon, a day both he and Phichit had off, that Yuuri finally agreed to go with the other to visit the manager. After all, Yuuri figured, the manager did have a right to meet who he’d hired by proxy. Phichit had earlier lectures, so they’d agreed to meet at the studio in the afternoon, but in Yuuri’s nervousness he’d caught a bus at least half an hour earlier than he needed to.

Seated on the bus, Yuuri felt the nerves properly settle in. His grip on his phone started to shake, so he slipped it back into his pocket, deciding that social media wasn’t going to help right now. He settled on staring out the window for the remainder of the ride.

Yuuri couldn’t help but think this studio might change a lot of things for him and  his friends. The last time he could remember dancing in front of those mirrors was years ago, possibly even back when he and Phichit were taking lessons together. But then university got in the way, and Yuuri moved out to get an apartment, he started working just enough to pay the bills. They hadn’t had time to be in a studio anymore.

All of their practices were being held in basements or garages, a piece of cardboard the only thing protecting them from the solid concrete of the floors, the music never quite as loud as they all wanted it, the rooms always quieter than they needed it. It just never felt right.

Though, Yuuri wasn’t sure the this dance studio would feel right either. The company itself taught a variety of dances, but most of them stemmed from more classical and contemporary roots, nothing like the dancing he and Phichit were being hired to teach. It would be a complete change of environment for his friends.

The bus pulled to a stop and Yuuri slipped out the back doors, checking the time to realize that he was even earlier than originally anticipated, and he would be waiting quite a while for Phichit to arrive. He had wasted some time at the bus stop fiddling with his phone, but the late February winds felt as though they were still laced with ice, and Yuuri was certain he’d lose his fingers if he stayed out too much longer.

A quick google informed him of the lack of coffee shops in the immediate area, which resulted in Yuuri’s reluctant walk to the studio, already planning a slew of apologies for his early arrival. The building itself stood out amongst those around it, so Yuuri didn’t even need to look up a map. The pristine white of the outer walls contrasted sharply with the brown bricks of various businesses, three floors of glass encased studios looked down at the street below.

He froze in front of the frosted glass door, watching his breath release in white puffs, trying to steel his nerves for one last moment before reaching forward to grab the handle.

Before Yuuri could even get a hand on the door it came swinging out at him, cold metal edging making contact with his face, knocking him flat on his ass. A disgruntled and slightly surprised blonde was halfway out the door when he realized he had hit someone. Yuuri was impressed with himself when he didn’t inch backwards at the others fierce expression, looking less like he was about to apologize and more like he was aggravated that Yuuri even dared to be in his way.

“Yuri! Where are you going? Class isn’t over?” Yuuri heard a man call from inside, managing to somehow sound both distressed and amused, and it took him a few seconds to realize that the man must be talking to the other boy.

“Home!” the blonde, Yuri, yelled over his shoulder as he stalked away from the building, and Yuuri wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but it looked like steam was radiating off of the younger boy.

“Yuri! Yakov will be angry!” The man yelled again, the door that had been gradually closing swung open again, narrowly missing Yuuri’s foot as he scrambled to get out of the way this time.

“Like I give a fuck!” Yuri yelled as he continued to stalk off, but Yuuri missed the obscene gesture that accompanied it as he was sat flabbergasted, staring at the man before him.

He was, by all means, one of the most attractive men Yuuri had ever met.

His silver hair had fallen across his face, blue eyes squinted in an exasperated glare as he watched the blond walk away, long fingers brushing soft strands back into place. Yuuri couldn’t help his gaze being dragged to where the fabric of the others black shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, all long and lean muscle, his posture making him look impossibly broader. Yuuri dragged his eyes down the others chest, the tight shirt leaving about as little to the imagination as those tights did, and the squeak Yuuri made as he whipped his head back up seemed to catch the attention of the other man.

“Oh!” Yuuri watched surprise flicker across the others expression, along with something too fast to catch, before settling on a truly disarming grin, “Are you okay?”

“It’s- I’m- uhm,” Yuuri nearly bit his tongue struggling to answer the other, feeling the embarrassed flush race up his neck and ears when he struggled to stand up, “I’m okay.”

Yuuri watched amusement settle onto the others face, thinking it’s an attractive look for the other, before he realized the man had offered him a hand. Still half on the ground, and having about as much elegance as a fish out of water, Yuuri reached for the hand and pulled himself up.

Possibly using too much strength in his panic, Yuuri had pulled himself directly into the others personal space, faces far too close for strangers who just met.

“Sorry!” Yuuri yelped, meaning to take a step back, but stopped by the tight grip on his hand.

“No worries,” The silver haired man smiled, staring down at Yuuri, “Shall we head inside? It’s quite cold out here.”

And before Yuuri could figure out what was going on, he was being ushered inside the building, hands still clasped together. Too startled to respond, Yuuri was dragged to the front desk, and the others hand slipped out of his as he began sifting through the drawers.

Yuuri blamed his cold hand on the winter winds, and not on the sudden loss of contact that had been sending heat through his entire being.

“You’re early, Yuuri,” The other said, finally glancing up from the desk drawers, seeming to find something, “It looks like Phichit recommended well.”

The surprise must have shown on Yuuri’s face, as a sly smile spread on the strangers lips, and he maneuvered himself back out to the front of the desk, standing once again too close to Yuuri to be considered appropriate.

It wasn’t until the taller was placing the adhesive on his nose did Yuuri realize that he must have been bleeding, the stinging pressure barely registering when the man had his hands on Yuuri’s face, fingers resting almost too long on his cheeks. Not that Yuuri was really complaining, but his new permanent state seemed to be blushing, and he was certain the other had noticed.

Suddenly his personal space was cleared, leaving a reasonable distance between the two, and Yuuri felt like he could breathe again, even if his face burned where the other had touched him.

“Yuuri Katsuki, it’s a pleasure to have you as part of our team,” The man said, offering his hand in a handshake, “I’m Victor Nikiforov, your manager.”

Yuuri thought to himself that he was probably screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Set-up chapters are literally the hardest thing for me to write, and I honestly don't like this one very much...  
> Thanks for checking out this story, let me know what you think!


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